


Catalyst

by mochiandtea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Culture, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, OC-Fern Evans, Personification, Wizarding World, slight Hetalia elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochiandtea/pseuds/mochiandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is seven years old when he meets an angel.</p><p>Aunt Petunia screams, and calls her 'Lily'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

Harry is seven years old when he meets an angel.

Aunt Petunia screams, and calls her ' _Lily_ '.

 

* * *

 

He meets her when she crash lands in the bed of roses Aunt Petunia told him to prune. She almost falls on top of him, only his huge leap backwards saves him from a thorough squashing. Instead she falls right into the rosebush, and is very, very still.

Harry doesn't know much about angels. What he does know comes from the story books at school, the ones he manages to sneak away and read before Dudley finds him and snatches them. He knows that they have white wings, and halos around their heads, and wear white dresses. A bit like the one in the rosebush. She has no wings, but she fell out of the sky, maybe she lost them when she went flying? And she has a halo, though it's in her hair instead of in a circle around her head, and it shines pale red and yellow instead of just yellow. She doesn't have a white dress, but maybe she lost them when she lost her wings. She isn't wearing anything, after all.

Maybe she's lost, Harry thinks, and hopes so, because there are no very good people in Number 4 Privet Drive. He knows angels are _special_ , that angels are very good people who died and went to heaven and came back down to earth to give messages to other very _special_ people. There are no very _special_ people at 4 Privet Drive though, no very good people. Aunt Petunia smiles at the neighbours and says mean things about them, Uncle Vernon sneers and says mean things about the people on TV in the evening, and Dudley is mean to everyone except his mum, his dad and his friends. They are not _special_. And Harry, Harry is a **_freak_** , even worse than being normal, like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Harry is a **_freak_** , and so he can't be _special_. So the angel must be lost, or have come to the wrong house.

Either way, she is sleeping in the rose bush, and it looks like it hurts. Her glowing hair is tangled everywhere, long strands knotted around several branches, and there are thorns digging into her skin, scratching bright red lines along it. Some of the scratches are bleeding. That must hurt, Harry knows, because he has the same cuts and scratches all over his hands, and they sting and itch so much he can barely pick up the garden tools.

He tries to pull her out, but she is too big, and her head yanks backwards when he tugs. Harry figures out that he has to untangle the hair before her head can move, and starts trying to unwind it from the branches–carefully, because he knows if he tugs too hard it will hurt, just like when Aunt Petunia cuts his hair. He can't help but twist the strands around in the sunlight, watching in awe as they shimmer between dark gold and light red. He's never seen anyone with hair like this, and that's right, it's a halo too after all.

"What do you think you're doing, laying about, get back to wor–OH MY GOD!" Aunt Petunia screams.

Harry cringes. His Aunt is really, really angry, and as she storms towards them, he flinches back, reluctantly letting go of the gold-red strands between his fingers.

The angel's eyes flicker open.

Harry gapes at her eyes, shimmering every colour of the rainbow. He's never seen eyes like that before either. Those strange eyes blink at him, once, twice, and then change. When she blinks again, her eyes are bright green. Those eyes, he _has_ seen before.

He's seen them in the bathroom mirror.

Aunt Petunia stops a little way from them. Her face is pasty white, but she doesn't look angry anymore. She looks, she looks–

– _scared_.

"Oh my God," she repeats quietly.

_"Lily?!"_

 

* * *

 

There are a pair of policemen sitting in Aunt Petunia's sitting room. They are talking softly with the angel, who sits on the sofa wrapped in one of Aunt Petunia's old quilts. Harry can hear them talking, asking questions. What's her name? Where does she live? Why was she in Aunt Petunia's garden? He can't hear what the angel says, but the policemen start asking very strange questions after a while. Can she remember where she was last at? Can she remember how she got to Aunt Petunia's house? Does she remember receiving a head injury of some kind?

They come and ask him questions too, about how he found her. He tells them he found her in the rose bush. He does not tell them she fell from the sky, not with Aunt Petunia glaring at him behind the officers' backs. He will be punished for saying something like _magic_ , just like he was locked in the cupboard for dreaming about a flying motorcycle.

The policemen leave after a while, and take the quilt-wrapped angel with them, saying they should take her to the hospital before doing anything else, just in case. His Uncle, who is by then awake, mutters good riddance as soon as the door closes behind them. (After spending half the time peeking weirdly at the angel from the next room.) Aunt Petunia sneers as soon as the front door closes and stalks off, seemingly completely forgetting about the shock she got earlier.

Harry peeks out the front window and watches the angel duck into the police car. He stares with fascination as the bright cascade of hair behind her sways with her movements, and almost falls backwards when she turns her head to look back at him. Green eyes and green eyes lock, and Harry can't look away. He doesn't know why she is looking at him so intently, he is not _special_ , but he, he, he hopes? He doesn't know what he hopes. He just wants to keep looking at her.

He wants her to _stay_.

(The next day, Harry asks Aunt Petunia who 'Lily' is. He is sent to his cupboard for a week.)

(He does not ask her again.)

 

* * *

 

Harry is seven years old when he meets an angel. Aunt Petunia screams, and calls her ' _Lily_ '.

Harry is eight years old when he sees the angel again. Her name is not Lily. She is not an angel.

She says her name is Fern Evans, and she would like to spend some time with her nephew.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my first purely Harry Potter fic. Yes, there will be one main OC, and possibly more minor ones. I love using them to explore the fictional environment in their fandoms, and there is a lot about the wizarding world Rowling didn't get into in her books. Also, I haven't read the books or seen the movies for ages, so I don't remember all the details. Thus, lots of world-building. I don't plan to pair up OCs to main characters, and I'll try not to make them Mary Sues/Gary Stus later on.
> 
> Slow-updating fic. Still, I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism will be appreciated.


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